


kindling

by Togaki



Series: one life, one home [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Accidental drug overdose, Breakup/makeup, Divorced parents, M/M, Suna-sis POV, lots of platonic bed sharing, mental health, outsider's POV, referenced homophobia, sweet-softened angst, timeline is eight years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28650732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Togaki/pseuds/Togaki
Summary: At seven years old, Suna Ririchiyo loves the world. Over the course of eight years and observing Rin and Osamu, she learns that love has its ups and it has its downs, but mostly, love is here to stay.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: one life, one home [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098944
Comments: 24
Kudos: 100
Collections: SunaOsa





	kindling

**Author's Note:**

> If this is your first visit to “one life, one home”—welcome! This story can mostly be set apart as a standalone aside from one scene at the end. It might not make a whole lot of sense unless you read the first part of this series, but it should be mostly fine (I think). This story aids the first part in that it tells another, fuller portion to SNOS’s story. 
> 
> Be mindful of the warnings in the tags. There’s nothing explicit, really, but just in case. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

At seven years old, Suna Ririchiyo loves the world. She loves the way snow crinkles under her boots when Tokyo receives a meager few centimeters of snow during the winter, and she loves the way her brother’s eyes twinkle with mischief right before he picks her up and throws her in a pile of leaves dusted with snowflakes. 

Though sometimes their parents may yell in hush voices behind closed doors at night, and though sometimes even asking her big brother Rin to lay the night with her in her bed won’t shut out the loud buzzing in her ears, love still feels warm. Love is two arms wrapped around her small body, tucked in close like a heartbeat. 

Love is a home you embrace. 

\--

Riri misses Rin-nii. She misses the way he takes her hand in his when they step off the apartment elevator as he chides her for losing her gloves. Winter is cold, despite the clear-paved ground, and her fingertips are nipped red even though she’s wearing two thick jacket layers, one hand shoved in her pocket, and the other, just barely shoved into Rin-nii’s taller pocket. 

He’s tall. She’s short. But somehow, he never leaves her behind. 

So even though Rin-nii’s off in another province playing volleyball for a school whose name is too silly for her to remember, he remembers to call. He remembers to text. He remembers to tell her when he plans on coming home, and when to expect some cheap jellies bought at the station just before he departs from Osaka and returns home to Tokyo. 

He makes sure to come in summer, and he makes sure to come in winter. Always. It’s consistent, like clockwork. 

He returns home, and life renews. She takes his hands in hers, cold and red, and she warms him up like a small piece of crackling tinder. 

\--

She’s almost nine when she has someone new to love. 

Rin-nii brings him home in the winter. 

He looks cold, like his name, but he has kind gray eyes that make Riri wonder if he would exchange them with hers. 

Her friends say her eyes are intimidating; they’re sharp and pointed, like a feline’s. Rin-nii begs to differ. “I like that we match,” he says, eyes crinkling like paper. 

She changes her mind. She likes her eyes better after all. 

But that doesn’t stop her from loving Osamu’s. 

Kind eyes, nervous eyes, excited eyes, bittersweet eyes— _in love_ eyes.

Then she turns and sees the same eyes on Rin-nii. 

Quietly, she determines to love them both. 

\--

Osamu comes again in the summertime, and this time Riri is officially nine years old. She grabs a fistful of Osamu’s pant leg—which is a bit of a fumble because he’s wearing sweats and it glides down _fast_ —and tells him as much. 

He doesn’t love Riri quite yet—doesn’t know quite how to feel about Riri. He thinks children are an enigma, and unless he’s on the receiving end of twin telepathy, he has no idea how they think. And though Riri tries to make her intentions as clear as possible, sometimes he reads too much into them, and becomes a nervous bumble instead. 

Like today. She tells him she’s nine and clings onto his leg, eyes shining like stars as she peers up at him. 

All she wants is to let him know that she’s older and that soon, neither he or Rin-nii will have to slow down for her, or squat down for her, in order for her to catch up. 

Osamu thinks she wants a gift.

He’s awkward as he says, “Uh, do ya like mochi?”

There’s an ice cream mochi stand downstairs. 

She accepts the accidentally solicited proposal. “Yes.”

“Okay.”

They get ice cream mochi: green tea for him, and red bean for her. 

Later that night, she asks Osamu to lie in bed with her while her parents whisper harshly in the room next over. 

Osamu looks pleadingly to Rin-nii for help, but her brother is having too fun of a time videotaping him climbing into a too-small, too-pink, too- _sparkly_ princess bed as he engulfs three-quarters of the space with his huge body; meanwhile, Riri tucks herself close. 

“ _Rin_ ,” Osamu begs. 

“Look, she’s domesticating you,” Rin-nii says, smiling. He grabs a futon and sets it on the ground. He sleeps there. 

And though she hears them whisper throughout the night, they’re soft, warm, yearning murmurs of the heart. Slowly, she drifts to the beat of Osamu’s. 

\--

When she’s ten, something changes. She’s not sure exactly what changes, but something does. 

Osamu still looks at Rin-nii with those _in love eyes_ , so it’s nothing to do with that. And though he refuses now to sleep with her in the same bed (because she’s “gotten bigger,” but the only thing that’s gotten bigger is her attitude), she knows it’s not because of that. 

It’s a tepid thrumming that hums underneath the surface. 

Rin-nii doesn’t think anything’s different. Riri begs to differ. 

She and Osamu are picking up groceries for dinner when that quiet hum breaks a little. 

It’s a soft chink. 

She looks up. 

Hand in his, she realizes he’s gone still. Unnervingly still. 

He’s staring at a magazine. The cover shows two men holding hands, and though pixelated, she spies the same _in love eyes_ that she’s come to identify with Osamu and Rin-nii. 

But there’s something different about the way these two are perceived, because the magazine only has bad things to say. She knows it’s bad because she’s heard those same words in school when somebody called Ki-kun by one of those names. A teacher pulled them both out. Ki-kun returned, but he looked hurt. Riri felt hurt for Ki-kun. 

Riri loves the world and she loves Osamu, and she doesn’t want either of them to hurt. 

She squeezes Osamu’s hand once—it’s a small squeeze, because her hands are still small, and she doesn’t have the strength to hold him tight—and says, “Osamu-san, the chicken’s going to go bad.”

That seems to snap him out of it for a second. Just a second. 

She wishes she could have made it last longer. 

They buy their groceries, they hold hands on the way home, but Riri never realizes this would be the last time she would hold his hand. Otherwise, she would have held on harder.

\--

Rin-nii’s upset. He locks himself in his room. For once, the apartment is quiet. There’s no harsh whispers in the room next door. And even if they return, they won’t be there for much longer, Rin-nii tells her. 

She sits at the base of his door, knocking the back of her head against the wood. She wraps her arms around her knees. 

“Rin-nii…?” she calls out. 

There’s a quiet sniffle. A rustle of sheets. He hasn’t gotten out of bed all day. 

“What is it, Riri?”

He doesn’t find her, he doesn’t lay in bed with her, he doesn’t wait for her—because even if she ran, she’s not sure she’d be able to find a person who’s lost. 

She listens to him fold in on himself, murmurs of regret too soft for her to pick up on but not too soft that she can’t understand that he’s hurting. 

“Do you want some hot chocolate?” she asks, because it’s the only thing she knows how to make. And it’s winter. It’s cold. Maybe he’ll want some. Maybe he’ll emerge if she offers. 

Rin-nii doesn’t answer for a long time. Riri worries he’s fallen asleep. Again. 

Eventually, he says, “Sure. That would be great.”

Reluctantly, she peels herself off the floor and away from the door. She goes to make two mugs. 

\--

The moment love becomes exhausting is gut wrenching. It doesn’t give you a warning, and by the time your eyes glaze over at the thought of keeping it up, it’s already too late. 

It’s hard to love her parents when they’re separated and not speaking. Sometimes they forget to speak to Riri. Sometimes they forget to speak to Rin-nii. But Rin-nii’s a special case because these days, he’s so quiet even Riri forgets he’s there. 

He comes home for a month after his graduation and does nothing. He does nothing, stares at nothing, and waits for nothing. 

Riri worries he’s become a statue. 

She tries to get him to come outside. 

“You like mochi, don’t you?” she says, dragging him along. She buys him green tea, and she swears he starts crying, but when she looks at him, his eyes are as vacant as the space in her bed. 

Sometimes they go to the park, but when she tries to get him to play frisbee with her, he gets hit in the head instead. She yells at him, but in the end, he just asks if they can go home. 

They watch movies, they make food, but they don't talk. Not anymore. 

And after a while, Riri finds it hard to love.

\--

Rin-nii spends almost the entire year away. He lives in Hiroshima now, playing volleyball. She’s not sure when he went to try-outs or when he signed the contract, but he’s there now. And she’s not. 

She misses him. A lot. She doesn’t say so out loud, because that’s embarrassing. But it’s true.

Rin-nii doesn’t call. He doesn’t text. He doesn’t send her silly postcards with illegible handwriting grossly scrawled on the back, or even a single red balloon that’s traveled halfway across the country with a tiny candy attached to its end.

Her mom doesn’t live with them anymore. Most days, it’s just her and her dad. 

Her dad doesn’t know how to cook. He tries, but when Riri attempts to supervise him cutting sweet potatoes one time, the knife nearly slices her eye. 

She takes over food preparation, but she doesn’t know how to cook either. 

So she calls Rin-nii, she leaves a message, and she waits. Patiently. 

\--

Rin-nii returns for winter, but he doesn’t stay long. It’s a three-day break for Christmas, then he has to return back for tournaments. They have to play on New Year’s Day—he doesn’t invite Riri to come and watch. 

\--

The next time he returns, it’s at the volleyball season’s end. He spends a week at home, and Riri uses that time to coerce him into teaching her all sorts of recipes. 

They’re at the grocery store, a different one this time since the other one ran out of milk, when Riri tugs his belt loop. 

“Hey,” she says, pointing at the magazine stand. “Isn’t that Atsumu-san?”

She was introduced to Atsumu two winters ago when the oddly pompous and loud creature was on a video call with Osamu. And because Rin-nii plays volleyball with him on occasion, she’s memorized the name. 

It’s a hard name to forget, though she sometimes tries.

“Yeah,” Rin-nii says, his face turned away. He doesn’t even bother to look at the picture. It could be Usagi-chan for all he knows. “Where’s the mayonnaise?”

But Riri presses. “Do you talk to Atsumu-san often?”

If Rin-nii talks to Atsumu, then that must mean he still talks to Osamu. 

“Why?” he asks. He’s distracted again. He’s pulling her away from the magazines. “Do you have a crush or something?”

Riri bites him for that comment. He draws his hand back, swearing. He’s angry; he glares at her. 

“You’re friends, aren’t you? Osamu-san told me you’re friends.” 

“What’s it to you?”

Tears well up, and she grabs the basket from him roughly, stomping away. She cries out, “You’re stupid!” as she hauls fifteen pounds worth of groceries to the counter, ringing them all up by herself, because as an 11-year-old girl who has yet to know what the world is like and how cavernous the true pits of heartbreak can be, she’s forced to grow up.

\--

Rin-nii doesn’t come back for winter break this time. The next time he returns home, it’s because of a near drug overdose. 

When she receives the phone call that frigid February night, she almost hangs up the phone. 

Her dad is in the other room, watching reruns of Lupin the Third, but when she runs into the living room and nearly collides with the bookshelf, he drops everything and they head down. They don’t even remember to blink off the TV before they’re out the door. 

It’s the first time since her parents’ divorce that they’re all in one room. Her mom got there earlier, about two hours ago because she works in Okayama now. Riri and her dad trickle in from the express train just as her mom tucks the sheets over Rin-nii’s chest, just a little higher. 

It’s a strange, oddly voltaic air in the room. It eases once the parents step out to talk with the nurse and doctor on duty. 

Riri alone sits in the big chair stolen out of the waiting room, pulled right up beside Rin-nii’s bedside. If he were to flutter his eyes open now, she would be the first person he sees, and though conventional wisdom would encourage otherwise, she’d sock him right in the face for ever betraying his promise to wait for her. 

Because how is she supposed to catch up when all he does is pull away—pulls away until he’s not even on the ground anymore?

The door slides open, and it’s a familiar face. 

Well, somewhat familiar. 

Komori waves an awkward hello to Riri, likely astounded by the family resemblance. 

Riri just stares back with silent, narrowed eyes. 

_Yep._ _The family resemblance is_ definitely _uncanny,_ Komori thinks as he gulps. 

He offers a bag of oreos, because he thinks that’s what small girls like, but Riri stiffly refuses. She doesn’t even know this man, and yet he’s offering her treats? 

He’s slightly crestfallen, but he hides it well as he takes a seat on Rin-nii’s other side. He’s stuck with a hard and uncomfy stool, which Riri takes relish in lording over silently.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “You’re Riri-chan, right?”

She nods, and they skip through the formalities. They sit in silence, the occasional munch of oreos, and the mute beep of the heart monitor as she imagines Rin-nii’s face to grow paler. 

The temporary calm is soon interrupted by a crash outside, then a flurry of shouts. This time, they don’t even try to whisper. They just let it out, unrestrained. 

Riri doesn’t blink. She just traces the shape of daisies in Rin-nii’s palm, ignoring the clamber. 

Komori leans forward, mouth stuffed with oreos, and asks, “Are you okay?” 

She’s slightly disgusted by the gooey mess in his mouth, but yes, she is. 

Komori notices she doesn’t flinch from the noise, and knowingly avoids that topic. So he tries to make different conversation.

Swallowing, Komori says, “Just so you know, I was the first one to find him. I’m not sure what everyone’s been telling you, but Suna’s not really that kind of guy. Will he drown himself in Monster and caffeine on bad days? Sure. Will he drag me to karaoke and sing atrocious tenor ballads about losing the love of his life? Yeah, and he’ll beat me in score, too. But he wouldn’t mean to do this, uh, you know…”

Komori doesn’t know how to put the obvious into delicate language, so Riri shuts him up by saying, “I know. I’m not dumb.”

She’s angry. She’s frustrated. Because everybody expects her to be some naive, little princess forever. 

“Didn’t mean it that way, but I guess I could see how it could come off like that. Sorry.”

“You should be.”

“Oof,” Komori says, and he snickers. “You guys really are siblings.”

“Were you actually questioning it?”

Ten minutes in this man’s presence is enough to conclude that she doesn’t particularly enjoy his person. He’s more of a weird, parasitic creature that latches onto Rin-nii. And his eyebrows are insulting.

Komori talks some more, because he thinks Riri’s bluntness means she’s opening up. He is wrong. 

“He’s probably gonna be lifted from the team until the end of the season.”

“Huh?” 

Komori cuts her off before any alarm can root itself. “He won’t be _kicked_ off the team per se. The doctors say that it’s an accidental overdose. He takes sleep medication sometimes, and they’re guessing he just went a little too strong this time. He’s been having worse trouble sleeping these days. Though, the PR team is probably going to say that he’s being put on indefinite rest because of an injury.”

“But there’s no injury.”

“Well, there’s _kind of_ a head injury from when he tumbled off the bed, but let’s not get into particulars—”

“He’s been taking sleep medication? Since when?”

Komori blinks rapidly, bending back as Riri leans forward. “Uhh, I dunno, he’s just always had them.”

And the truth washes over her then. 

It’s been what she’s expecting this entire time, but nobody’s ever told her outright. How is she supposed to know? How is she supposed to understand the gravity of something when nobody will ever level with her first? 

Rin-nii never took sleep medication when he lived at home. She knows what they look like. Her mom takes them. 

And it wasn’t during high school either. He wouldn’t be able to get a prescription. 

She hates feeling small. She hates feeling weak. 

But most of all, she hates that even though she’s here, and she’s not leaving, and she’s still waiting, Rin-nii won’t open his eyes. 

“Hey, are you crying?” asks Komori, his voice gentle.

“I’m not crying.”

“It’s okay to cry, you know. It doesn’t mean that you’re any less strong if you do.”

Stupid cookie-cutter wisdom. She bets he got that from the back of a cereal box. 

But still, she doesn’t shut him up or berate him.

“...I’m not crying,” she says. She’s just tired. Love is tiring. 

Rin-nii comes home with them the next morning.

\--

According to Komori, Rin-nii hasn’t been doing well emotionally the last few months. 

“ _He can try to mask it all he likes on the court, but some things you can’t really hide_ . _The heart is one of them_.” 

So in short, his “injury” recovery time is as much for the fake injury on his head as it is for his mental health. 

He sees a therapist about twice a week, and though dinners are mildly tense with unsure coughs at best, her dad tries his best to get him what he needs. 

Rin-nii is astonished the first time he takes a bite of the sweet potato casserole Riri makes. He acts as if he doesn’t know her, which, though it’s meant to be comical, also stings. The dog-eared cookbooks and white-lined scars on her hands attest to that. 

She knows she can’t blame him for everything, but she’d like to. 

She does, however, blame one certain man in particular. 

She’s washing dishes when Rin-nii comes over to help.

As she suds and wipes, he rinses and dries. The last time they did this, their roles had been opposite because she was too small to reach the faucet. 

She asks him, “How have your sessions been?”

He gives a noncommittal hum. “Fine.”

“What do you talk about?”

“Why? Are you interested in joining?” he says, mockingly.

She dumps the sponge in the sink. She glares at him.

It’s because of him. It’s because of _him_ that she asks. Because Rin-nii’s too stupid to recognize that some shoddy one-time love is ruining his life, and now he’s attending therapy because of it. 

Love, at one point in her life, meant everything to her. Loving her parents, loving Rin-nii, even loving Osamu. 

But love hurts. Love is painful. And love does irreparable damage. 

So she stalks away and leaves him to finish the dishes by himself. She soaks in a hot, bubbly bath, making sure there’s nothing left but cold water when she opens the drain and lets the faucet run after she climbs out, and hopes that Rin-nii will have cardiac arrest because of her arctic present. 

But it’s when she tucks herself in that night that she feels a gigantic pit of emptiness. 

Nobody ever told her that love would feel like flying, free-falling, drifting. Aimless. 

There’s a quiet click at her door, and though the lights are shut and the light-padded footsteps are muffled, she knows it’s him. 

For a split second, she thinks about not scooting over so he has to lay on the ground, but when she feels his cold hand touch her shoulder, her body automatically moves to make room. 

It’s not forgiveness; it’s not even close. 

But it’s been a long time since she’s allowed herself to indulge in something nice, something comforting. 

So she lets him stay. In her too-small, too-pink, too- _sparkly_ princess bed, he engulfs maybe two-thirds of the bed now. She’s grown bigger. She’s grown up. And soon, they won’t be able to do this anymore, but for now, she turns around and lets her head fall into his chest, listening to the gentle beating of his heart slow with hers. 

\--

Rin-nii leaves Tokyo right at the tail-end of her summer break. This has been the longest he’s been at home, but he also needs to return because volleyball is his work now. He can’t let it alone forever.

So he goes, and the leaves change color. He promises to return for winter holidays, but she’ll have a chance to see him before then, because he gifts her tickets to one of his games this season. 

And since she’s given three tickets, she invites Ki-kun from Class 3 to join her and her dad for the premiere game in Osaka Municipal Gym. Unlike all those times she’s had to watch from behind a screen, or engage with commentary through a small earpiece during cram school, she gets to see Rin-nii play live. 

And he’s _perfect_.

The audience is still up on their feet by the time the fifth set is over, and Riri hurriedly runs down the steps, ignoring her dad’s pleas to slow down, and she drags Ki-kun over to Rin-nii’s autograph line. 

His sessions with the therapist have been going well, and it shows when he throws her his signature smirk from across the twenty-foot line of eager fans. 

It’s those eyes—while they’re not quite as bright as they used to be—it’s those eyes that she feels her heart swell at. Their matching eyes; their intimidating, peridot-colored feline eyes. Full of life eyes. 

Then she gets her autograph plate abruptly lifted and signed by a man with a too-cocky grin and a pompous sashay in his hips as she suppresses the deep urge to kick him. 

Atsumu laughs, and when the plate is handed back—he tries to ruffle her hair, but she sidesteps it—the plate she was going to have Rin-nii sign is covered top to bottom in the blond man’s messy handwriting. He winks at her. She scowls.

But that isn’t the only thing that’s grating. 

It’s looking at Atsumu and seeing the man who broke Rin-nii’s heart. It’s looking at Atsumu and seeing a reflection of how Osamu probably is on the other side of the world, or maybe in the next building over, and that he’s feeling as good and as happy as Atsumu now looks. 

And Riri wants to _ruin_ that.

But too late, she realizes the potential for re-opened wounds as Rin-nii ambles over to pick her and Ki-kun up, and she sees as his eyes drift when they look at Atsumu off of the court.

And she knows that he knows. He knows. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

So Ki-kun gets his plate instead signed by Rin-nii, and the three of them hobble their way away from Atsumu with barely a greeting from either party. 

And it’s when she feels Rin-nii folding in on himself, when she feels the grip in his hand start to loosen, that she lets go first. 

She tells them to go on ahead. 

Rin-nii just looks at her confused; Ki-kun pleads with eyes asking her not to dunk the chipmunks again.

But that’s exactly what she intends to do. Because before the blond-haired man can get too far out of reach, she grabs his arm and asks, “Atsumu-san—”

\--

It isn’t until the spring of her 14th year that she decides to use Atsumu’s contact information. Over the last few months, Rin-nii’s mental health has dipped on and off. 

“ _It’s a relapse_ ,” her dad told her one night after Riri got off a troubling video call with Rin-nii. “ _He has depression._ ” 

Somehow, the realization that her older brother has depression isn’t as shocking as slowly processing the fact that not everything necessarily stems back to his one failed high school relationship. That sometimes, there are many factors and unknowable factors that lead into it. 

But that doesn’t mean she can’t try to shove it away, to leave behind the truth and seek out what she thinks is the gospel behind fiction.

And so, during one day of Golden Week when she lies to her dad about going to Ki-kun’s, she rides the shinkansen for four hours until she arrives at the Sendai station. Once there, she follows Atsumu’s instructions—he litters the text with emojis—and eventually, she finds herself in front of a nondescript, quite honestly bland, Japanese diner. 

She steps through the door, and the bell chimes. There’s a wide, open counter with bar stools for patrons that want to sit closer, but she chooses one of the idler booths set off to the side. 

A waitress walks up and asks her for her order, and in surprise, she chooses the first thing she sees on the menu, which happens to be tuna-mayo-filled onigiri. 

“Good choice,” the waitress says, smiling. “Everybody loves that one.”

The waitress leaves, and Riri’s left to wonder what she should do now. 

She knew there was the chance of Osamu recognizing her even after all these years—after all, the Suna genes run strong—so she wore a hat and shades to cover up, but all of that is meaningless unless she actually manages to _see_ Osamu. 

She texts Atsumu, and the man is quick to reply. 

_Osamu works in the back_. 

But there’s a clear “no entry” sign blocking her way. In the first place, is Osamu even working today?

 _Oh, that, yeah I dunno_ , is Atsumu’s only quick-witted response. 

She sets a reminder to block his number once she’s finished with her business. 

It’s probably an hour and a half later, after ordering two more plates of varying flavors of onigiri, that she decides this was all stupid to begin with. 

It was stupid of her to try and use Atsumu for a contact who Rin-nii has so obviously avoided all these years; it’s stupid wasting money for a train ticket to a place she never wanted to come to in the first place. 

She throws bills on the table and starts to leave when a man walks into the restaurant. 

He looks cold, just like his name, and his eyes, as clear as she can remember as if it were yesterday, are gray and soft, inviting and beautiful, and heart aching and heart breaking all at once. 

She watches him pass her by, completely unaware that she even exists on the precipice of this plane as she’s about to walk out those doors, and he greets his coworker, the waitress. 

“Weren’t you just in the back? Why are you coming through the front?” the waitress asks. 

“The front’s easier. We ran outta tuna mayo. I just went and grabbed some more,” Osamu says, lips lifting in a warm smile. 

He takes off his cap and shakes his hair out a little before re-donning it. His eyes then roam the room, and he finally notices Riri. 

She’s grown since. She’s gotten taller since. If Rin-nii or Osamu were to take off now running, she’d be able to catch up. She’s no longer the little eight-year-old girl who once clung to Osamu’s pant leg and solicited ice cream mochi. 

Yet, standing there, in that foreign space, she feels like a little girl again. 

Or maybe she has been all this time.

Osamu turns those kind eyes, nervous eyes, excited eyes, bittersweet eyes— _no longer in love_ eyes—on her, and says, “Miss, are ya okay?”

She leaves. 

She leaves, and the doors chime, and her legs lift, but they don’t carry her far. They don’t carry her fast enough. And she feels like she’s falling behind.

Because even after all this time, she still loves him, loves them both. 

\--

In a hazy, dreamless ride back, she wonders what she was even expecting. 

Did she want Osamu to be miserable? A small part of her thinks so. 

Did she expect to hate him on sight? Probably. 

Did she figure she would get a good punch in, just once? That would have been lovely. 

But most of all, she wanted so badly to blame him, to shove all of Rin-nii’s problems on him, and make him the perpetrator of so much hurt and tears. 

Because if he were the sole thing responsible for Rin-nii’s pain, then he would also be the sole thing that could bring back Rin-nii’s happiness. 

And that, out of everything, is what hurts the most. 

\--

It’s winter again, and Rin-nii has come back home. It’s still only three days, but he gifts the family tickets again for his game, this time on New Year’s. 

On Christmas Eve, Riri bakes a cake and decorates it while Rin-nii goes to pick up the chicken her dad ordered months in advance since queues were long during the holidays. It’s a fun time as they’re exchanging presents and wiping whipped cream on each other’s faces. 

On Christmas Day, Riri and Rin-nii head to the shrine together since they can’t do that on the actual New Year’s Day. She prays for good health and fortune, while Rin-nii is beside her, quiet, as he murmurs his own silent wish. 

They spend the rest of the day kicking snow at each other, shoving each other into piles of frost-tipped leaves, and pouring hot chocolate onto the cement to see if it’ll freeze. It doesn’t, but that’s fine. Losing her one source of warmth is only terrible insofar as the fact that she forgot her gloves at home, but she doesn’t grumble. _Much_.

Rin-nii quietly offers her his gloves, and when she scoffs and sticks her nose up at the oversized mittens, he takes her hand and shoves it into his pocket. 

She doesn’t chide him, but she does inwardly admit that this is embarrassing. 

That night, Rin-nii sleeps in the futon on her bedroom floor while she’s tucked in her bed. 

She asks, “Hey, Rin-nii, do you ever think about dating again?”

His response is groggy with fatigue. He has an early ride out tomorrow. “Why the question?”

“Do you still love Osamu-san?” she asks softly. She’s afraid of the answer, but she also feels like she already knows the answer. 

Rin-nii can’t help but be sarcastic. “Why? Do you like him, too?” 

She chucks a pillow at him, and he groans. 

He doesn’t retort further, and as Riri lies back in bed, she figures that his answer had been enough. 

_Too_. 

Rin-nii still loves Osamu. 

She counts the stars shining through her window as she says, “I’d like it if you could learn to love again. I know it’s hard, but I don’t want you losing half of your life to something that’s never going to pan out.” Her eyes are wet. 

Rin-nii rolls over and says, “Hey, are you crying?” 

“No.” Then she remembers that one night in the hospital and what Komori said. “...Yes.”

She hears a shuffle. 

They’re both too big for this now. Her legs get cramped against the wall, and Rin-nii’s limbs either dangle off the ledge or wrap around Riri’s shoulders as he hugs her, and she hugs him back.

Love is warm. Love is two arms wrapped around her small body, tucked in close like a heartbeat. 

He brushes her bangs, slipping them behind her ear. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I don’t think it’s gonna work out like that. For me, at least.”

“But it’s stupid. You do realize how stupid it is to hold onto something for five years, right? You haven’t even spoken to Osamu-san since then.”

“I know,” Rin-nii says, his voice floating. “It’s a little hard to explain. Love isn’t something you just put down like a book. It continues, even after the last page has been set. So though you’re telling me to date again, I don’t think I can. It’s like telling me to start a new story when I haven’t even finished the one I’m currently on.”

“But—”

“I know what you’re saying,” Rin-nii interrupts. “And I hear you.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. It’s so juvenile now, but she misses it. “But I don’t think I can. I won’t.”

Riri blinks back the tears. They’re gushing freely. “You’re going to be miserable.”

“Says who?”

“Your therapist.”

“She doesn’t say that, and you know it.”

She knows. She knows, but she at least wants to try. 

That night, they cry together in her too-small, too-pink, too-sparkly bed, and in the morning, life renews. 

\--

Osamu gets reintroduced into her life the way he always gets tossed in: a little awkward, a little kind, and a little nervous. 

He’s a bit stiff as he approaches the front door, and Riri has to yank him in, though not before cruelly evaluating him with her cold, cold eyes. 

There’s no explanation— _yet_ —for why Osamu’s suddenly returned to Rin-nii’s life, but she plans on wrenching one out, either from Osamu or from Rin-nii. Perhaps Osamu. A chef doesn’t need all his fingers.

The most she knows is that one day Rin-nii had a tournament in Osaka Municipal Gymnasium—the same one she went to a year and a half ago and got her autograph plate snatched by Atsumu—and when he came back, he had a boyfriend in tow. 

She hadn’t even realized Osamu moved back to Osaka. 

She scrutinizes him in the foyer as Rin-nii heads inside to talk with their dad. They’re not staying in Tokyo for long, just a bit, but he wanted to stop by and say hello. 

Osamu clears his throat, aware of the burning furnace inside Riri’s peridot-feline eyes, and he says, “Uh, it’s, um. Good to see ya?” When she doesn’t respond, he says, “Ya’ve grown.”

“Rin-nii, I’m taking your boyfriend out for a walk.”

“ _Sure_ ,” Rin-nii calls out from the kitchen.

Osamu balks and literally cringes away from Riri’s hand when she yanks his collar and drags him with her like he’s a dog on a leash. 

They go downstairs. They stop at the mochi stand because it catches Osamu’s eye (and perhaps he thinks Riri is still the same nine-year-old child who can be bribed with sweets), but when he orders a red bean for her, her eyes soften. He hands the money to the teller duly. 

They eat and walk in silence. 

Osamu’s grown over the years, as has Riri. He’s taller, broader, stauncher. He doesn’t look at all like the boy with the pure, lovelorn eyes in her memory. She supposes it’s only natural; she saw him only last year, after all. 

As he’s fumbling with his green tea mochi, he asks, “Um. Are ya mad?”

“What would I be mad about?” she bristles. “Five years do you good. How was Sendai, by the way?”

He chokes. “Ya know about Sendai?”

“Who _doesn’t_ know about Sendai?” she retorts, giving no explanation. She figures this means Atsumu never told him she naturally cajoled information out of his twin.

They make it around the block, and as quick as they were out, they’re back inside the apartment. 

She kicks off her shoes, and when Rin-nii greets them at the doorway, his eyes see Osamu first and Riri second. He goes in for a side hug from Riri—who dismisses it instantly—and then he kisses Osamu chastely on the lips. His gaze is soft as he looks at Osamu, curls a finger around his ear, and presses one more kiss to his forehead this time. 

And Osamu meets it like it’s only to be expected. But he holds on tighter than before, more lovingly than before. And then they’re lost in their own little world, oblivious to Riri’s presence in the room. 

An emotion bubbles inside her stomach, seeing them, and she realizes that though the last five years felt like forever, this, right here, feels like it stretches languidly. 

\--

She has her back against the door—inside her room this time—as she listens to Rin-nii and Osamu talking out in the foyer. Her knees are scraped from falling during her outing with Osamu, and the pain still stings, but there’s a warmth that blooms in her chest as wetness blurs her eyes. 

“Don’t leave me,” Osamu cries, emotions bubbling over. 

“I won’t,” Suna soothes. 

“I love ya.”

“I do, too.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“What for?”

He should be sorry, though. Osamu should be sorry. Because when he left all those years ago, he didn’t just leave behind one person. He didn’t hurt just one person.

Osamu sniffles, and this time, Riri’s heart feels lighter when he says, “ _Thank you_.”

\--

At fifteen years old, Suna Ririchiyo knows more about the world. She knows that a home can feel just as filled with only two or three people, and she learns that happiness isn’t enjoyed in abundance. But that’s what makes it so special. Because you learn to cherish it when it comes. 

And though sometimes love can look like two older brothers crowding her in a bed that’s too small for all three of them to fit in, and though sometimes love can look like a worn-out waiting room chair at the hospital while waiting for those beautiful beloved eyes to wake up again, love still feels warm.

Love takes many forms. Love can be painful, love can be hard, love can be dumb. Love isn’t always beautiful. Yet, that’s what makes it so singularly exceptional. 

But most of all, love is a home, in which tired or happy, you continue to embrace, always. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
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> 
> Update: Now with [art](https://twitter.com/aribiaobi/status/1367097430949441538)!


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